Yuzhen didn't feel like celebrating. Not in that weird space, anyway. Not with Xiaoren watching him like he was waiting for him to mess up this second chance. So, he just sat back down on the grass, closed his eyes, and gently tested his spiritual energy again. No rushing, no being greedy, just enough to make sure it wasn't some kind of illusion.
It flowed. Smoothly. For the first time in ages, it moved through his body without getting stuck, without tearing itself apart, without collapsing. Yuzhen slowly opened his eyes. His hands were steady. He glanced at the spring, then the distant buildings, then the fields. A part of him still couldn't quite believe it, but another part—the part that used to train until his arms were shaking—was already itching to move. If he stopped now, if he just thought of this as luck instead of a beginning, he'd be wasting it.
Xiaoren hopped off the spring stone and walked over. "You done?"
"No," Yuzhen replied.
Xiaoren squinted. "You already took the pill."
"That just fixed what was broken," Yuzhen explained. "It didn't bring my cultivation back."
Xiaoren stared for a moment, then gave a single, approving nod. "Good. At least you get it."
Yuzhen stood up and brushed the grass off his robe. "How do I get out of here?"
"You want to leave already?" Xiaoren sounded a bit put out. "You just got here."
"I need to go back," Yuzhen said. "My family will notice if I just disappear."
Xiaoren made a face. "Touch the mark."
"What mark?"
Xiaoren pointed to his wrist. "It's faint. You'll feel it if you try."
Yuzhen looked down. He couldn't see anything, but when he concentrated, he felt a slight warmth under his skin, like a hidden thread connected to the space. He touched the spot.
The world spun. For a split second, he felt weightless. Then he was back in his cultivation room. The candle was still burning on his desk. The tea tray his grandmother had left was still there. The room still smelled the same—sandalwood and clean wood—but Yuzhen's body felt different. He stood perfectly still, listening. No alarms. No yelling. No servants banging on his door. Good.
He sat down on the mat again, not to punish himself, but to test it one more time in the real world. He guided his spiritual energy. It moved. It didn't fight him. It didn't scatter. It didn't hurt. Yuzhen's eyes closed for a long moment. Then he opened them and stared at the floor in front of him like it was the first honest thing he'd seen in months. He looked down at his finger. The cut was gone. Not healed, just… gone. That alone would have sounded impossible yesterday. Now, it was just another sign.
Yuzhen stood and walked to the washbasin again. He rinsed his mouth, washed his hands, and looked at his reflection. Same face. Same eyes. But the heaviness behind them had shifted. He wasn't "back" yet. Not completely. But he wasn't trapped anymore. He took a breath and left the cultivation room.
The estate was quiet. Lanterns glowed along the paths. Guards were at their posts. A servant carrying folded cloth passed him, bowed, and seemed relieved to see him up and about. "Young Master," the servant said carefully, "do you need anything?"
Yuzhen shook his head. "No." He walked towards his courtyard. Halfway there, he paused. A light was still on in the west hall. His grandfather. Yuzhen hesitated for only a moment before changing direction. He reached the door, raised his hand, then lowered it again. If he knocked, his grandfather would ask questions. *Where were you? What happened? Why does your aura feel different?* Yuzhen could lie, but he hated lying to his family. And he couldn't tell the truth. Not yet. So he just stood there for a moment, then turned to leave.
Behind him, the door opened. Bia Zhenyuan stepped out. He didn't look surprised to see Yuzhen there. It was as if he'd known all along. "What are you doing?" his grandfather asked.
Yuzhen bowed. "I came to see if you were still awake."
Bia Zhenyuan looked at him. Then his gaze narrowed slightly. Yuzhen's heart skipped a beat. His grandfather's eyes were sharp. Too sharp. A cultivator at his grandfather's level didn't need words to sense when something had changed. "You…" Bia Zhenyuan said slowly.
Yuzhen kept his face calm. His grandfather took a step closer. Then another. He didn't touch Yuzhen, didn't need to. His spiritual sense swept over Yuzhen's body like a cold wind. Yuzhen stood still. For two breaths, Bia Zhenyuan said nothing. Then he spoke, his voice low and flat. "You took something."
Yuzhen met his eyes. "Yes."
"What?"
Yuzhen's mouth went dry. His grandfather's voice didn't get louder, which somehow made it worse. "Was it from outside the family?"
Yuzhen shook his head. "No."
Bia Zhenyuan watched him. "Then you found it yourself."
Yuzhen didn't answer. Because his grandfather was right. A long silence stretched between them. Bia Zhenyuan's gaze didn't soften, but the hard edge in it shifted into something else. Something careful. Something almost… contained. "Your aura is steadier," his grandfather said. "Your meridians are calmer. Your foundation…" He didn't finish the sentence, as if saying it aloud would tempt fate.
Yuzhen's throat tightened. "Grandfather."
Bia Zhenyuan stared at him for a long moment, then said, "Come inside."
Yuzhen followed him back into the hall. Inside, the tea had gone cold. Papers were stacked on one side of the table, the same papers his uncle had been holding earlier. His father's letter was gone. Bia Zhenyuan didn't sit. He stood by the window, back straight, hands behind him. "Tell me one thing," he said.
Yuzhen waited.
"Can you cultivate again?"
The question was simple, but it hit like a blade. Yuzhen looked down at the floor. He could lie. Say no. Buy himself time. Keep the pendant a secret. But he couldn't lie to his grandfather's face after everything the old man had done for him. And he couldn't reveal too much. So he chose the smallest truth. "Yes," Yuzhen said.
Bia Zhenyuan's breath hitched for a heartbeat. Then he turned his head slightly, not fully, as if he didn't want Yuzhen to see his expression too clearly. "How sure are you?" his grandfather asked, his voice still steady.
Yuzhen lifted his eyes. "Sure enough."
Another long silence. Then Bia Zhenyuan nodded once, like he'd just accepted a battle plan. "Good," he said. Just one word again, heavy with meaning. He finally turned back fully. His eyes were bright in a way Yuzhen hadn't seen in months. But he didn't ask how. He didn't ask where. He didn't ask why now. Instead, he said, "From this night on, no one outside the family hears a word about it."
Yuzhen's chest felt a little lighter. "I understand."
Bia Zhenyuan's gaze held him. "And you don't take anything unknown again without telling me first."
Yuzhen hesitated. His grandfather's eyes sharpened. "Do you hear me?"
Yuzhen bowed. "Yes."
Bia Zhenyuan watched him for another moment, then walked past him and placed a hand on his shoulder. It wasn't gentle, wasn't soft, but it was steady. "You did well," the old man said, his voice low. "Even if you scared your grandmother half to death these past months."
Yuzhen's throat tightened again. "I'm sorry."
Bia Zhenyuan scoffed. "Don't be sorry. Be stronger."
Yuzhen nodded. His grandfather removed his hand. "Go rest. Tomorrow, we start preparing."
"For what?" Yuzhen asked.
Bia Zhenyuan looked at him like the answer was obvious. "For Cangyuan Sect," he said. "And for the day your father comes home."
Yuzhen left the west hall with his chest tight and his steps lighter than they had been in a long time. Back in his courtyard, he shut the door, leaned against it, and exhaled slowly. He didn't smile. Not yet. But for the first time in months, the future didn't feel like a wall. It felt like a road. And somewhere under his robes, against his skin, the jade pendant rested quietly—warm and silent, like it was listening.